an. Thank you for the reviews! I have to admit, writing a total crackfic is very entertaining compared to plotting the long fics!

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Chapter Two

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Darien placed her flute on the nearest table. "Excuse me," she said to Mike, heading for the Green Room to access the French doors that led to the South Portico. She knew without turning around that Tom would follow, and it had been less than a minute stood watching the late afternoon sun sink toward the horizon that footsteps approached.

"Darien—"

"Was she there?" The words came out sharper than intended as she turned. "When you left Norfolk?"

He stopped approaching, several feet removed. "No. She was flown to my deck two weeks into the mission."

Two weeks. The length of time Tom had explained that he was unaware of the real nature of their deployment. "So it was her? That's how you found out?"

"I had my suspicions that was something was off when I reviewed the team's files," he offered quietly. "They were overqualified. Couldn't find any reprimands to warrant an assignment to babysit two scientists looking for bird crap."

"And hers?"

"Above my pay grade. The only warning I got was my TAO flagging the Helo, and their pilot citing a code you never want to hear. That's it."

"So you had no idea that she was involved?"

"None."

"And you didn't think to mention that you spent four months at sea while the world was ending with your ex-girlfriend under your command?"

She saw that he prevented himself from rolling his eyes, his jaw ticked instead. "She wasn't there as my ex-girlfriend, Darien. And no. Her involvement was classified."

"Classified," she repeated flat. "And yet here she is, in a room full of press at an event that's being televised. Live."

"Something must have chang—"

"Do you really expect me to believe that you, the man of the hour, didn't know that she'd be recognized for taking part in the trials?"

"Do I look like I knew that this was coming?" It was so dry that perhaps it may have been funny were the subject matter anything but the woman he'd wanted to marry. She studied his face for any trace of deception. Finding none only frustrated her more.

"She's intelligence, Darien. If they get recognized at all, it's usually closed door with the handful of people holding a clearance high enough to know what they did to merit it in the first place."

Darien continued to stare. "That's very convenient."

"It's the truth."

"The truth—"

"What do you want me to say?" He took a step closer. "That I'm sorry the oaths don't become flexible when they piss of my wife?"

"That's not fair," she ground out, fighting to keep her tone level. "At the very least you should have warned me today."

A slight sag formed in his shoulders. "I was trying to get to you but I kept getting pulled into conversations, and then—"

"And then Mike had to come up with an excuse on your behalf."

He briefly closed his eyes, and sighed.

"Who else knows?"

This time his eye contact held a fatigue with which she'd become all too familiar since his return. "No one. She was using a cover alias. Mike had never met her before and neither of us had the clearance to pull her real file. He put two and two together when her name was announced during the ceremony."

Somehow, she found that hard to believe. "So you're telling me that when she arrived in the Arctic, you both just pretended that you're complete strangers? For four months?"

This time Tom said nothing.

"Tom that's absurd."

"It's the job."

Remaining outwardly impassive, Tom's contrite demeanor had perhaps the opposite effect. It only deepened her confusion. "If protecting her identity was so important, why would the Navy assign her to a ship commanded by her former instructor? Surely they wouldn't miss that?"

"Because it wasn't the Navy who sent her. She's DIA."

Darien frowned. "But she has a rank."

"She's still active duty, but she hasn't been in the Navy's chain of command for years. That much I know."

"How? You don't have the clearance to access her real file," Darien repeated.

He shot her a look. The same one he leveled at the kids when his patience was wearing thin. "She's not the only one who can pull strings."

At that, Darien's head tipped in silent question.

"It's not a coincidence that Dad convinced you to go on that retreat and had the cabin stocked, Darien."

Something cool traveled her spine. She'd never thought to question why Jed had taken the kids just a week after Tom deployed. Why he'd insisted on finding activities that kept them out of the city, while she was at the mountain resort. At the time she'd assumed it had been Tom who'd orchestrated a much-needed break from the monotony of running a household, but now the pieces clicked. Jed's unwavering certainty that Tom was alive. The way he'd known exactly which roads and areas to avoid. Six months of food. Redundant water filtration systems. Backup generators. Solar chargers. A satphone . . . all things that had seemed excessive at the time explained away as the eccentric nesting of an aging veteran who never got right after Vietnam.

"Your father has been in contact with her the whole time." It wasn't a question.

Tom's expression closed off. "I didn't know." But his tone said he'd had suspicions. Darien watched his gaze drift to the lawn behind her before snapping back to their conversation.

He'd caught himself doing it this time.

"He always did keep her on a pedestal. I never understood why until now," she began.

Tom tensed.

"He thought you made a mistake by moving on."

"Darien." The warning in his voice was clear.

She held up her hands. "I'm just stating facts. Your father has made his feelings known on multiple occasions."

"And he was wrong." The words came clipped. His gaze resolute. "Just like he was wrong to maintain contact with her without telling me."

A burst of laughter floated across the patio from inside. These people had weathered the apocalypse together while she'd hidden in a cabin in the woods — a cabin stocked by her father-in-law at the behest of her husband's ex.

"Why would she go to the trouble of risking her career? I can't imagine that she was supposed to be disclosing that kind of information to your father."

"Because she knew that I wouldn't be able to focus unless I knew that you were safe."

Darien swallowed. "She could have left it up to the Navy." The words tasted bitter. "Like the rest of the crew's families."

"That's not who she is, and she did what she could. Not just for you and the kids."

The simple statement held such certainty that Darien had to look away again. No, she supposed that wasn't who Commander Reznik was. Her mind conjured the image of the woman standing stoically as the president praised her service. Nothing in her bearing had betrayed any connection to Tom, much less any knowledge of them. A breeze rustled the flags lining the building. Darien pulled her shawl tighter, suddenly aware of how exposed they were out here. How many eyes might be watching from inside . . .

"I suppose I should thank her," she said finally. "For looking out for us." The words felt hollow, rehearsed. Like something a good wife should say.

Tom's expression shifted minutely. "You can't."

"Why?" Darien met his gaze.

"Because I'm not supposed to know."

Something about that put a knot in her chest, and Darien couldn't begin to understand why. Perhaps because it sounded like it ached.

The door behind Tom opened, they both automatically straightened.

"I apologize for the interruption." It was the same aide who'd taken the placard. "Captain Chandler, the president is hosting the joint chiefs in the Blue Room, he'd like you to join them."

Darien watched Tom hesitate, his eyes darting between her and the aide. A familiar internal battle played across his features. She knew which would win.

"I'll be right there." The aide nodded and retreated.

"You should go," she said, forcing lightness into her tone.

Tom's jaw tightened. "We need to finish this conversation."

"What is there left to say?" She smoothed her wrap, needing something to do with her hands. "She helped your father keep us safe, and you didn't know about any of this until after the fact. That's what matters."

"Darien—"

"Really, Tom. I understand." The words came out steadier than she felt. "It was classified. Some things have to stay that way."

He was clearly unconvinced by her sudden acceptance. Darien didn't blame him — she wasn't convinced either but pushing any further tonight would accomplish nothing except drawing undue attention. Tom studied her face, searching for evidence that this was a tactical retreat rather than genuine understanding. She kept her expression neutral, years of practice serving her well.

She managed a small smile. "Go. This can wait."

o o o

Between her fingers, Darien twirled the stem of her wine glass, watching the firelight dance through the dark red liquid. The Green Room's intimate setting provided a welcome respite from the bustling reception next door. Her third glass of Cabernet had smoothed the jagged edges of her earlier conversation with Tom, but liberated other parts of her mind . . .

Heavy footsteps approached and Mike settled into the armchair beside her.

"Hiding from the brass?" she asked.

"More like escaping." He loosened his tie. "Tom's still trapped in there."

"At least he's good at it." Darien took another sip. "The politics. The schmoozing."

Mike snorted. "Don't let him hear you say that."

The fire crackled, filling the comfortable silence between them. Through the doorway, she caught glimpses of dress uniforms and evening gowns swirling past. Commander Reznik stood near the far wall, deep in conversation with Rachel Scott.

"He hasn't looked at her once all night," Darien said softly.

Mike's posture stiffened slightly. "What?"

"Tom. Even during the ceremony. He's been so careful that it might as well be a neon sign." She traced the rim of her glass. "I've been watching. Every time she enters his line of sight, his eyes slide right past like she's invisible." Mike shifted in his chair and she offered him a wan smile. "Did you know she arranged for our safety? Before everything happened?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Apparently she contacted Jed. Made sure we had somewhere to go when it all fell apart." Darien laughed softly. "I suggested I thank her for saving our lives, but I can't because Tom wasn't supposed to know about that either."

Mike took a long drink. "That sounds like Sasha."

"You didn't know her before?"

"No. But spooks have a type."

Darien hummed thoughtfully. "The way Tom describes her . . . it's like she exists in some separate reality where normal rules don't apply." She paused. "Maybe that's why he hasn't introduced us."

Mike remained silent, but his expression grew more concerned.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to cause a scene." She drained her glass. "I just find it fascinating that my husband can command a destroyer through the apocalypse but can't look his ex-girlfriend in the eye at a party."

Mike choked slightly on his drink.

"If I had to guess, something happened during the trials," Darien mused, studying Mike's reaction. He set his glass down with deliberate care, and Darien recognized his non-response for what it was. Calculated restraint. "Were you there the whole time?"

"I was." Mike's voice carried the firm tone of someone trying to redirect a conversation. "Everyone was focused on the mission."

Darien picked up the wine bottle from the side table, refilling her glass. The alcohol had loosened her tongue more than she'd intended, but she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "You know what's funny?" She didn't await a reply. "When we first started dating, I had to drag her name out of him. Just a first name. Sasha." The word felt foreign on her tongue. "That's all he'd say."

Mike's expression remained neutral, but his gaze darted left.

"And then he admitted that he wanted to marry her, so I broke up with him." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "He was so honest about it. Said she was the woman he wanted to spend his life with."

Mike appeared now frozen.

"I appreciated that about him. The honesty. Even if it hurt to hear it, at least I knew where I stood."

Mike cleared his throat. "Darien—"

She waved off his concern. "We were just dating, it wasn't serious." The memories surfaced with surprising clarity. "He said she ended things. Didn't see how they could make it work with their careers, and I understood that." Darien's finger traced the lipstick mark on her glass. "But now she's here, and he's got that same look on his face." Through the doorway, she caught another glimpse of Sasha. The woman carried herself with such confidence. Such poise. Everything about her screamed capability and control.

"Did she volunteer immediately?" Darien asked. "For the trials?"

Mike hesitated.

"I'm just curious. About all of it really." She gestured vaguely toward the reception. "You were all saving the world while I was hiding in a cabin in Virginia. Sometimes I feel like I'm watching a play where I don't know any of the lines."

"You were keeping your children safe," he said firmly. "That's what mattered to Tom."

Darien laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Yes, thanks to his ex-girlfriend's foresight." She swirled the wine in her glass. "The same woman who apparently risked her life testing vaccines with him."

"With the other volunteers," Mike corrected. "Tom wasn't—"

"But he was there, wasn't he? Watching?"

Mike leaned forward, his voice low. "Listen to me. Tom did his duty as Captain. Nothing more, nothing less. Whatever you're imagining—"

"I'm not imagining anything. I'm observing." Darien met his gaze steadily. "My husband can't even look at this woman and apparently, she was dying in front of him while testing a cure that killed three people. So you tell me — what exactly am I supposed to think?"

Mike's expression softened. "He loves you. The kids. Your life together. That's real."

"I know." She smiled sadly, and looked down at the glass, studying the faint lipstick smear again. Such a small thing, that mark. Delicate, but impossible to ignore once you noticed it was there. "But that doesn't mean that thirteen years, two kids and a marriage were enough to make what he feels for her change."